Healer's Touch
by Bukittyan
Summary: After Blackwall gets injured during a battle, Saelyn Lavellan insists on healing him. Fluff, short, takes place before Skyhold.


On the way back to camp after dealing with a particularly nasty rift, Saelyn noticed that Blackwall was continuously massaging his left shoulder. She had seen him surrounded by three lesser terrors during the battle before a Despair demon demanded her attention. He had probably been injured then, though if he was anything like Cassandra, he would endure it silently. Typical warrior stubbornness.

So when they reached camp, Saelyn blocked the way back to his tent. "Off with your shirt," she said, hands on her hips.

He blinked confusedly at her. "Lady Herald?"

"Saelyn. And you heard me. Off with your shirt and sit on that log over there. I'm going to look at that shoulder."

"This?" Predictably he swung his arm, demonstrating that it was working just fine while trying to hide his gritted teeth. "It's nothing. Just a bruise."

"Uh huh," Saelyn didn't budge.

"Better do as she says, Hero," Varric said as he sauntered past. "Wouldn't want the camp healer angry with you."

Blackwall looked as if he would remain stubborn and try to argue with her for a moment, but changed his mind and headed over to the log she had pointed at, unbuckling his chestplate as he went. Saelyn allowed herself a smirk of victory, then quickly entered her tent for the elfroot ointment the mage healers at Haven had given her for sore and pulled muscles. Though Varric called her the camp healer, in truth Saelyn knew only the very basics of healing magic. Keepers had to know all kinds of magic, most of it practical and based on what they could remember of ancient elvhen lore. While part of that included healing magic, after spending time in the company of circle mages in Haven, Saelyn was learning there were large gaps in her knowledge of healing. Yet while tending to Blackwall's injury could probably wait until they returned to Haven for a proper healer to look at, she really wanted to be the one to make him feel better.

Blackwall was waiting patiently on the log, his back turned towards her and shirt and armor removed as she had commanded. Saelyn paused for a moment, taking the opportunity to really look at him. Saelyn took the opportunity to really look at him. His shoulders were broad, broader than any elf's. His skin was mapped with scars, many of them probably hard-won in battle. Dorian often joked that Blackwall looked like a hairy druffalo and now Saelyn could see why- his entire body seemed covered in dark hair, some places coarser than others. It spread down his shoulders, his back, and down to his waist. Elves didn't have much hair on them, but rather than being repulsed, Saelyn was fascinated. She wondered what it would be like to run her hands down his rock-hard muscles and through the soft curls. Wondered what it would be like to be held in such strong arms, nestled against his chest.

Wondered what bearded kisses felt like.

She flushed. She should not be having these kinds of thoughts. Not about a shemlen.

Quickly, she opened the salve jar, needing to distract herself with work. "Are you ready?" She asked him, scooping a generous amount of the sticky stuff on her fingers.

Blackwall sniffed the air as she approached. "Maker's balls, what is that smell?"

"A healing salve."

"Does it have to smell that bad? What's in it?"

"Healing herbs. And don't be such a pansy. It'll make you feel better, I promise." Gently, Saelyn touched the salve to his left shoulder blade. Elgar'nan, he was warm and soft. She felt the flush returning and peeked over her shoulder to make sure no one could see. Thankfully the rest of the camp was busy with their own tasks.

She felt Blackwall take a sharp breath as she massaged the ointment on his shoulder blade, gently searching for the ache with magic. There, right below the bone. It was a good size sprain; she could feel the heat burning from the abused muscle. She called forth a bit of cold to her fingertips to combat the heat, relaxing the muscle as she did so. His shoulders slowly began to relax and she heard a breathy contented sigh. She massaged his shoulders a little longer, enjoying the sensation of his skin beneath her fingertips and the knowledge she had helped him in some way. "There, see? Was that so bad?" She patted him gently on the other shoulder.

"Good as new, in spite of the smell." He turned around and gave her a smile, one that reached his eyes. "My thanks, lady Herald. You are a woman of many talents."

"Just Saelyn. And yes, I am." She hoped her cheeks didn't reflect the warmth pooling in her chest and stomach.

"Modest too," he chuckled.

"I have to have some flaws. I wouldn't want anyone to hate me for being perfect."

"I doubt anyone could hate you." The way he said that made her heart beat faster in her chest and she couldn't turn away from his slate blue eyes. She knew she was grinning giddily and couldn't stop herself.

"You haven't been talking to the Chantry lately," she said. "Or Vivienne. Though I think she hates everyone on principle so maybe she doesn't count."

"Then they have little taste."

She giggled. "You wouldn't say that if the entire world hated me. Which I suppose is equivalent to your Chantry hating me."

"If that were the case, I would reject the world for having no taste and would remain by your side."

"Always?" She meant to be flippant, but her heart quickened as she spoke.

"Always." He placed his hand over hers, eyes locked with her own. His hands were rough and calloused; warrior's hands echoing the promise in his eyes and his words. The heat was spreading now- Saelyn was very sure her cheeks were pink.

No, she was just flirting and he was responding. That had to be all. That was all it should be. She was Dalish, last of the Elvhen and a Keeper's first at that. Once the Breach was sealed, she would return to her old life among her people. There could be nothing more but friendship between them and she fiercely shoved down any disappointment she felt at that.

"Good." She rose and calmed her nerves by brushing off imaginary dirt on her thighs, needing to look anywhere but at him. She hoped her voice was casual; Mythal'enast if he knew just what she'd been thinking...

"I'd better go see if anyone else needs my help. Remember to rest that arm tonight. No practice with Bull or Cassandra." She schooled her face into a mock-glare, though the corners of her mouth were betraying her serious tone.

"I promise," he said, bowing a little to her. "And thank you. I appreciate your concern."

Saelyn knew she was blushing now. "Anytime," she said, quickly grabbing the salve and headed back towards the main camp, hoping he didn't notice. She couldn't help glancing back at him as she went. He was watching her intently. /Creators, what am I doing?/ she thought as she added a little swing to her hips. This probably wasn't going to end well.

But for the first time in her life, Saelyn didn't care.


End file.
